


Every Road Leads to You

by colfox



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Disabled Character, Cinnamon Roll Nux, Disability, Disabled Character, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mild Gore, Minor Furiosa/Max Rockatansky, Multi, Nux Lives, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Sexual Content, The Wives ship Max/Furiosa, Violence, capable/nux - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-09 14:13:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4352000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colfox/pseuds/colfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Glory be.” He breathes at her and his fingers slide into her hair, wetting it with dark grease. “Your face is wet. It’s - Capable.” He sighs as he touches her hair.</p><p>She sits up fully and locks her eyes on his. If she averts them, he'll disappear again, she's sure. “I don’t understand. How… the rig flipped over on top of you.” Her brain can’t come up with any explanation for his survival. It’s impossible that he’s here right now.</p><p>“I followed - wherever you go, Capable - I follow.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ring of Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself I wasn't going to, but I just couldn't not write something for these precious cinnamon rolls. Capable and her adopted war puppy/kitten have wormed their way into my brain like Larry and Barry and, well, here we are. Witness!

The last thing Capable sees is fire. Endless flames obscuring her vision and sucking Nux into them, farther and farther away from her. She can see the look of realization on his face. Did he know this would happen? They’re too far away now to reach him, and Capable feels like she’s being torn in half. The distance is too much and she has a wild feeling of losing control, almost like she’s falling and there’s nowhere anything to grab onto. She remembers having the same feeling when she saw Angharad fall as they ran from Joe.

There’s no Joe anymore, but Capable would almost will him back to life if it meant she could just reach out and grab Nux now. She feels sick and sad all at once. Nux mouths something to her, and in her aching heart she knows what it is. Her own mouth won’t work, it’s dry and she is sure nothing will come out of it. She reaches out and turns her palm up to close her fingers, holding it out to him and praying to something, maybe whatever it is that listens to Dag, that he understands. It is not the tangled fingers of the War Boy salute, but it’s proof that his sacrifice does not go unseen.

As the flames swallow him up, she feels her arms give out and her shoulders make contact with the hot metal but the sting is dulled, like everything else. The only thing that is clear is the crashing of the rocks and the squealing of hot metal scraping against the earth as the canyon pass erupts into a falling ring of fire. She closes her eyes, willing him to know how significant he is now, how he will be remembered, by her if no one else.

The return to the Citadel is a blur, the screaming crowds and the roar of the water are all muffled, seeming far away. In the writhing crowds below, she keeps seeing glimpses of him, but when she looks closer it’s never really him, just another poor war boy running around frantically in the aftermath of Joe’s death. It's because of Nux now that she understands what they must be feeling. She wants to reach out and grip his hand, expects to feel him bobbing up and down next to her with that same frantic energy, whooping and hollering to his war boy brothers about their newfound freedom. She can see it in her head but no matter where she looks it’s like he’s dodged just out of her line of sight.

Is this what it means to witness? To be haunted by the lack of him, the lack of Angharad? What would she be doing if she were here? Would Nux’s infectious grin spread to her as well? She supposes she will never know and it makes the sick feeling bubble up inside her again.

This is the real price of war. Capable can’t help but think she understands Max a little better now and she wants to tell him so, but he's already gone, lost in the sea of faces.

The wives and Furiosa disappear one by one, not on purpose, but because there’s plenty to do and see and they know this place, so she’s left on her own to wander the still-familiar halls of the Citadel. She reaches out her fingers and runs them along the side of the narrow halls, the roughness of the stone dragging at her skin. Before she knows it, she’s back at the vault, staring at Angharad's war paint, long-dried now. This room has always served as a cage for her and the others, but it also still smells and feels of Angharad. She has nothing of Nux, she realized with some discomfort, but at least there is still some trace of Angharad to soothe her. Capable finds her way to that little corner of the room, where she and the taller girl would sit together and read or talk or braid one another's hair, and sits down, running her fingers over one of the worn pillows and pulling it into her lap, soaking in the smell. It doesn't ease the sick feeling in her stomach entirely, but she’s surprised how much it helps to calm her.

Angharad... what would she think of them returning to this place? Of their attempts to reclaim this prison? Would it make her happy? She wonders briefly if this is how the war boys feel without Joe. Do they crave his guidance and violent brand of compassion just a she craves Angharad's voice and gentle touch? Who knows. She will endure it, just as she endures all things, after all - she is Capable. 

But right now, right now it still stings to smell Angharad and know she isn't here. 

 

One of the wives will coming looking for her eventually, or she’ll convince herself to go and help with something. She'll have to tear herself from this little place of sanctuary. After all, the war boys will need someone to make contact with them, and she supposes she has a better chance to connect than anyone else. But she wants to help, too, she thinks, in memory of Nux. He can’t be the only one who can be reached with a little compassion and patience. They must be feeling lost right now and she's sure that similarity between them will come in handy.

Nux, Angharad, the war boys... it's so _much_ and her eyelids feel so heavy as she relaxes in the little corner, surrounded by things familiar and safe, and it is not long before she’s drifting off in the warmth of the late afternoon. Capable knows she will have to go and help the others soon, but for now she just wants to be surrounded by this, pretending Angharad is laying with her and that before she knows it Nux will come bounding into the room to ramble on about some silly thing he’s found, or slide up next to her and play with her hair. Who will play with her hair now that both of them are gone, she wonders drowsily as her head lulls onto her shoulder. 

Capable’s eyes close, her mind drowning out the still ringing cries of the people of the Citadel and the chanting of the war boys.

***

There is a light touch on her cheek suddenly and the sour smell of guzzoline and grease, not a smell that she has ever experienced in the vault. Her eyes open slowly, stinging with sleep and blurry. There's something pale and moving in front of her, but she can't make out what it is quite yet. Her lashes flutter as she blinks. She can swear what she comes face to face with is the raised outline of a V8 before her eyes, but she _knows_ that's not possible. Is it? Her chapped lips part as she registers what that could mean, and her eyes slowly travel upward to find out. They scan over his face, and she's still telling herself it's not true, until there they are are; electric blue and shining back at her. Nux's eyes. 

“Nux…?” she manages to croak out as her stomach flips over inside her belly.

“Glory be.” He breathes at her and his fingers slide into her hair, wetting it with dark grease. “Your face is wet. It’s - Capable.” He sighs as he touches her hair.

She sits up fully and locks her eyes on his. If she averts them, he'll disappear again, she's sure. “I don’t understand. How… the rig flipped over on top of you.” Her brain can’t come up with any explanation for his survival. It’s impossible that he’s here right now.

“I followed - wherever you go, Capable - I follow.”

Her chest tightens and her eyes sting again. “Nux…”

He is grasping her arms gently and opening his mouth to speak again, but the voice that comes out next isn’t his at all, but Dag’s.

“Capable. Capable. Hey, wake up.” The hands on her arms shake her lightly and Capable gasps, sitting up with a start and staring at the Dag who's hovering over her, looking mildly concerned.

“Ya alright? You were cryin’ out for… well, for that war boy in your sleep.”  
Capable stares up at her, feeling her bones threatening to crush down on top of her lungs. Nux isn’t here. It’s just a dream.

“I’m fine.” Capable sits up after a moment, brushing the tears away on the brown fabric that’s wrapped around her wrist and pushing Angharad's pillow off of her lap. “I just… had a dream..”

The Dag regards her quietly before standing up and looking around. After a moment, she speaks. “Feels like Angharad here, don’t ya think? I hope, for her sake, her ghost isn’t hangin’ around here wanting to have a reunion.”

Capable thinks Dag still says the oddest things, but she’s not entirely sure the dead don’t linger after death, now, with how she’s been feeling since they escaped Joe and she watched Nux crash the rig to guarantee their escape.

“Anyway, Furiosa wants to talk to us and the milk mothers. We’ve got some food as well.” She reaches out, offering her slender hand to Capable. Capable stares at her hand for a moment before grasping it and pulling herself up, gripping it as they leave the vault together. Ghosts or not, they have to push forward and reshape the world they’ve turned upside down.


	2. White as milk, Red as blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting to get this chapter done so quickly, or to post it, but I felt like the momentum was good and you guys might appreciate getting off to a quick start! From here on out, I'll probably post weekly, but I hope you enjoy this little early drop~

The sun is beating down on the desert hard today, and a big swig of aqua cola sounds appealing, but he has to ration what he’s got. Max thinks it’s been maybe a week since he disappeared into the crowds beneath Furiosa and the wives. A quiet exit, no awkward goodbyes, that’s always for the best when it comes to him.

He’s heading back toward the ring of fire at the mouth of the canyon path, where that kid threw himself into the belly of the beast to help the wives escape. Shame, he thinks, but a good death for a half-life, war boy who would have had his breath stolen by those tumors if he’d lived much longer. It’s probably a pile of charred metal and rubble, but Max is pretty sure he can salvage something, at least supplies, if not a working vehicle. Or one that he can make work.

Just something to get him to the next place, wherever that is.

It’s another half day before he can see the ring of fire, no longer a ring but a mountain of rubble and hot metal. Some of the large rocks have been cleared and scattered, but only enough so that a scavenger here or there could get in and pick through. Probably, everyone’s still too afraid to bother with it, or more likely they’re dead. And the dead’ve got no use for car scraps, do they?

He’s tired, but he trudges the rest of the way to the man-made mountain, taking stock of what’s too buried under rubble to bother with. He’s guessing on the other side some of the cars might have made it and so he starts to climb up over the rocks, making sure to avoid the sharp pieces of mangled rig that slice through the earth, like the teeth of some sort of beast trying to claw its way up for air. The climb is steep and sharp, but not long, and before the sun has set he’s looking into the canyon, a graveyard of mangled and charred rig and cars. Max pauses, looking down at the havoc their escape and eventual return caused. Still, he thinks that ultimately what will come out of this is good in the case of the Citadel.

It’s getting dark by the time he’s climbed down the other side, dropping his pack nearby and going to do a first sweep of what’s left and what might be usable. He won’t be able to do any repair work on anything once it gets dark without alerting someone to his presence, so he’ll just figure out what has the best shot of working and then rest until it’s light enough to see again. There’s a few of the war boy’s cars that made it in decent condition and between the two or three of them he can probably string together something that will work.

Max drifts back over to where his bag is situated by the bottom of the rocks and drops down next to it, pulling out some of the dried meat left in his pack from the many mothers. He chews on it as the sun starts to set below the cliffs, casting the canyon into darkness. It gets cold at night out here, but that’s sometimes better than the biting heat during the day, as long as you’ve got enough layers to keep from freezing or the means to a fire.

Max has both, but he thinks the layers should be enough. The rocks are still warm from the sun and somewhere he’s got a blanket in his pack as well. Once he’s eaten as much as he can justify in one sitting he settles back against the large rocks and closes his eyes. It’s not a real sleep - the kind where you feel rested afterward - but enough of one that he can keep moving in the morning, and the kind where he won’t be snuck up on by raiders or scavengers.

A few hours of peaceful rest go by. The canyon is quiet save for the occasional croak or shift of a night beastie, and Max manages to sleep pretty well until he hears a rustling from somewhere to his left. It sounds like metal being pushed around, probably a scavenger. He gets up, grabbing one of the guns and moving quietly toward the noise. If he’s lucky it’ll just be one or two, and not a whole band of them waiting on the other side or up on the cliffs.

Not that he’s usually lucky, but he’s hoping some of the good fortune Furiosa and the wives seem to have has rubbed off on him.

The muffled rustling continues as he draws closer, gripping the gun and glancing around for the source of the noise. The closer he gets, the more he can make out of the sound. It’s definitely metal shifting, but there’s something else too, something quiet and unintelligible until he’s right on top of it.

All he can see from where he is is a mangled bit of war rig sticking out of the rocks, but from beneath there’s clearly wheezing and some sort of chanting. Max lowers himself carefully to the top of the metal, getting his ear as close to it as he can to make out the words.

“it… neh... “ Max frowns, straining closer to listen, but it doesn’t come again for a few moments. He’s starting to think he imagined it, but then it starts again.

“Ness… wit.. ness..”

Max can’t quite believe his ears, but he reaches down and grabs the sharp metal anyway, grunting and gritting his teeth as he bends the metal back, trying to dislodge it or pull it away from the rocks. There’s a fierce amount of pressure and then a whine as the metal is stripped away and tossed down the rocks to the ground. He leans down over the newly exposed pocket, blinking to try and test whether or not his eyes are lying to him.

Down at the bottom of the pocket of rock and metal lays a very familiar war boy, twisted and bloody, but somehow still breathing despite having the world dropped on top of him.

***

It takes Max at least an hour to pull Nux from the rubble and metal, but eventually he gets him down the rocks and spread him out on the cool sand below. The most noticeable injury right away seems to have taken care of itself already, some of the girl’s fortune must have followed him after all. There’s a large gash taken out of Nux’s shoulder and back that looks like it’s stripped the tumors, at least the bits above the surface, clean off the kid. And if that wasn’t lucky enough on its own, he must have landed on a hot chunk of the rig because it’s been seared up and closed enough so that the bleeding’s stopped.

Max is beginning to think the kid soaked up all the good luck to be had, considering how things are going so far. There’s some broken bones, ribs mostly, but he knows there are some other fractures in his limbs that will need dealing with too. Not much he can do about them out here, but he’s more interested in internal bleeding or trauma anyway. He can’t find any after a thorough search, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Burns are the next biggest issue, and he’s got a lot of them but he needs better than Max can manage here.

He settles for talking to the kid while he starts a small fire and tries to work on some of the cars. If Max can’t get him back to the Citadel soon, it won’t matter that he took up a miracle surviving that wreck.

“... Impressive… you - surviving that crash.” He mumbles as he works on one of the car’s engines. “Pretty sure someone’s gonna be awful glad you’re not dead.”

He keeps talking to him through the night, glancing over every so often to make sure he’s actually still breathing. He feels some sort of responsibility now, like if Nux dies now, after all this, it’ll somehow be on his shoulders. But he already knows that girl’s got one ghost too many, she sure doesn’t need another added to it.

By the time dawn arrives, Max is just finishing up a car and closes the hood on it with a ‘clang’ that echoes through the canyon.

“-itness!” Comes a soft hiss from down below him where the war boy’s lying. “Capa...b.”

Max jumps down and walks over, “... You awake, kid?”

“Cap… bl..” His breathing is a little more labored now, and Max thinks it’s about time they head out. The Citadel’s not far, but they’re losing time fast. He grabs the kid as gingerly as he can and climbs up the side of the battle car, setting him down on the seat as easy as he can manage and closing the door. Another quick dash to retrieve his bag and Max has swung himself into the driver’s seat.

Lucky again, there’s a spot that’s just wide enough for him to scrape through where the rocks were pulled out by prior scavengers, and scrape out he does, literally. But once they’ve squeezed through the small opening, Max floors it in the direction of the Citadel, miracle war boy in tow.

“Big shame - to make it this far and die now before Red sees ya.” He grunts over the roar of the engine and the hiss of the wind.

***

Capable has only met the Milk Mothers a few times, despite being at the Citadel for so long now. But for the past week or so, she’s seen them almost every day. More often than not, meeting them is still a blur, like everything these days, and she struggles to focus on what Furiosa is saying. It’s important, she knows, but it’s hard to concentrate with Nux and Angharad still clinging to her. The Dag throws glances in her direction every now and then, and jabs her in the side or the thigh to bring her back to reality when she drifts too far away.

She’s thankful for it, but she also wants to go and lay back down with Angharad’s pillows. Before they left here, she would have given anything to never step foot in the vault again, but right now it seems like the only place she wants to be.

Furiosa is still talking, and Capable thinks she hears something about the war boys and going out on the rigs. It's strange how much and how little things have changed in the few short days between their escape and eventual return.

“What do you think, Capable?” It’s Furiosa’s voice that interrupts her thoughts, and Capable starts to attention, looking up at her like a desert beastie caught in the headlights of a rig. There's a small pause, but Furiosa can see quite clearly that she’s not really there with them and resumes what she was talking about. Embarrassment creeps up her neck to warm her ears, but then The Dag whispers that she’ll fill her in later, and Capable is silently grateful for how perceptive her sister is. Cheedo sneaks her a sympathetic glance later. It's not meant to be pity, just comfort, or at least that's what Capable tells herself.

Has she become pitiable now? She's not sure what to do about it, but she doesn't want to dwell on it anymore right now. She's already keeping all of these feelings inside of her as much as she can. The meeting is apparently over as Furiosa walks out, glancing back at her on the way. The imperator's look give her the feeling she'll be talking to her soon, but maybe that's not so bad. If anyone can understand how she's feeling, Capable is sure Furiosa can. After all, she lost loved ones too, and probably no one has asked her if she's alright. They take for granted how strong she is.. Lost in thought, Capable doesn't notice one of the Milk Mothers approaching her. The woman reaches out and touches her arm gently, so light she almost doesn’t realize it.

“Capable, isn't it?”

The redhead nods, blinking and bringing herself back to here, to now, so she doesn’t miss something again, so she's not rude. With her sisters, it’s alright, they understand. But with others she has to be present, to be capable.

“You look pale, dear.”

Capable puts on a smile, but she’s almost sure it looks as fake as it feels on her lips. “I always do.”

The milk mother regards her with a curious expression before she starts to laugh softly. She hadn't meant it as a joke, but her skin _is_ fair. It's more tanned now after their journey outside the Citadel, though. Joe would have hated it, but that would have made Angharad happy, so it makes her a little happier too.

“Of course you do, but, here,” she hands her a full jar of mother’s milk and Capable blinks down at it before looking back up at the woman, “You look like you’ve had a rough time of it. Even if you just drink a little it will help.” Now that she’s paying attention, she thinks the milk mother is only a little older than her, with dark, pin-straight hair that looks very tame in comparison to her own mess of red curls.

The woman smiles at her gently, the type of smile Angharad might have given her, before she walks off to join the other mothers. Capable realizes too late that she didn’t say thank you, or anything at all, really, but she holds the milk to her chest all the same. Perhaps they next time they meet she can ask her name and thank her properly for this gift. She leaves the room, making her way back toward the vault, the feel of the bottle very heavy and real in her hands. Capable feels like this gift, simple though it may be, grounds her back in the real world a little, and she is quietly thankful for that too.


	3. Searching

Ever since returning to the Citadel, Capable has no shortage of dreams. Dreams of Angharad falling from the rig, just out of her reach and dreams of Nux’s face as they sped away. Sometimes brief dreams of Joe. The others are understand, and she is thankful these are her sisters; not one of them gets angry when she starts awake or inevitably calls out Angharad or Nux’s name. The wives, her sisters, suffer from their own dreams and she takes comfort in this, but she still dislikes waking the others. Even more than that she dislikes having them sit with her until they all doze back to sleep. 

She finds herself returning to that little corner of Angharad’s, grasping to a pillow and curling up against the wall. There was one morning a few days past now where she woke up to find sweet Cheedo curled up next to her. Somehow, Angharad’s little corner has become a sanctuary for all of them, comforting them in the wake of night terrors and giving them a place to remember her. The Dag has curled up in Angharad’s bed itself from time to time, but mostly they leave it untouched, as if it’s waiting for her to return. 

Capable aches to have something similar of Nux. Somewhere to go, or something to touch, it aches inside of her almost too much to bear. 

Today is not the only day she’s wandered down to the tunnels where they live, hovering close by, just enough to hear them. They don’t sound like Nux;, his voice was sweeter and quieter than what she hears beyond the walls, but sometimes if she listens long enough they say similar things. She’s waiting nearby today, hoping to hear something, anything that reminds her of him. The hallways are more deserted today, the milk mothers and the other wives are handing out rations of water and crops to the wretched and the wars boys too. 

After awhile, it’s clear the halls are deserted and she takes her chance, slipping around a corner and walking down the steps into the dark pathways below. The sour smell of guzzoline and grease reaches her nose before she’s even entered the dark hallway. It takes her eyes a few moments to adjust to the darkness before she can continue on, but eventually she reaches the base of the stairs. Capable’s gloved hand reaches out to touch the wall, letting the metal pipes running alongside her guide her toward a dim, blue light in the distance. 

How many times had Nux walked these halls? How many years had they both been here, right on top of one another but unaware? 

The hallway spills out into a large, circular room; at the center stands a huge pile of metal underneath Joe’s emblem. It’s hard to make out what they are at first until she draws closer, close enough to touch them. 

Steering wheels. 

Racks and racks of steering wheels, piled on top of one another. Tentatively, she reaches out and brushes her fingers over them. Large and small, some of them badly bent or warped, others gleaming as though they’ve never been touched before. She guesses Nux’s wouldn’t be here, he probably lost it out on the road during their escape. But knowing that he’s stood in this spot, right where she is, and touched this monument...

Capable lets out a breath she hasn’t realized she’s been holding. 

Shiny and chrome. They were his words. It made sense now, in this place, how the war boys might worship their metal and machines. Joe considered this place lowly, but it seemed sacred here, even if it was all in tribute to a false god. 

“Breeder.” 

Capable hears the word whispered from the shadows and she starts, spinning around to look for the source. 

“Who’s there.” 

There are more whispers, but she can’t understand them. Capable hesitates only for a moment before she takes a step toward the shadows. She thinks she’s just being reckless because of her grief, but the knowledge of this doesn’t stop her. It should. War boys are dangerous, not all of them will be like Nux. And she’s all alone. No one above knows that she’s come down here. 

Still, she’s not afraid. She refuses to be afraid anymore, of men or of being alone. 

“I know you’re there.” She feels a tremor in her voice that threatens to betray her brave, upturned chin. 

A shift in the shadows to her right. She can see the outline of pale skin, but it’s small, much smaller than Nux or any of the war boys she’s been close to. One more step and she can see who’s been watching her. 

War pups. 

There are four of them, huddled against the wall and staring up at her with wide eyes. They are almost identical to the war boys, but she can’t see any visible tumors or scars and their pants all seem a few sizes too large. 

“Hello there.” She tries to keep her voice gentle and soft, fearing she’s more likely to startle them than the other way around now. Their eyes grow wider and they whisper to each other, though keeping an eye on her all the while. “It’s alright, you can come out.” Capable kneels down and holds her gloved hand out to them. 

One boy glances at the others before looking back at her and cautiously emerging from the shadows, straightening his back as he does and lifting his chin up. Capable wonders if she looked as obvious only moments ago, trying to act brave. 

“What’s your name?” She smiles at him and he seems to fluster. 

“Pile.” he says matter-of-factly. 

“I see. And who are your friends?” 

Pile glances behind him again and looks thoughtful before he returns to attention to her. “These are my mates. Bolt, Lug and Jack.” 

Capable leans to peer around him at the more timid boys and smiles at them as well, “It’s nice to meet you Bolt, Lug and Jack. My name is Capable.” 

“We know,” Pile says quickly, “You’re the red wife.” 

“Not a wife anymore, just Capable.” she corrects him gently. One of the other war pups, she thinks this one is detaches from the wall and moves closer to her, reaching out to inspect her hair. 

“We don’t have hair.” He looks at her curiously. “Why’s yours red?” 

She smiled a little, “That’s just how it’s always been. Would you like to have red hair?” 

The boy pulls his hands back quickly and shakes his head. “No. If we had long hair someone could pull it or it would get caught in the car parts.” 

“That’s probably true. Very smart.” Capable nods to him and he retreats behind Pile. “Why don’t you all go and get rations?” 

“Capable.” 

The voice is unmistakeable and she stumbles up to her feet, looking to large entrance leading out opposite the one she entered from to see Furiosa standing there. The war pups skitter back into the shadows, watching Furiosa with hesitant eyes. The once-imperator glances at them and nods to the exit, “Go on, go and get rations like she said.” 

That’s all it takes, and the boys run off out of the room, leaving her alone with the older woman. 

“It’s dangerous to be down here by yourself. Just because Joe’s gone doesn’t mean-” 

“I know.” Capable interrupts her, though not on purpose, but the last thing she wants is a lecture. “It’s not safe but I...” 

Furiosa doesn’t say anything, walking towards the looming rack of steering wheels, running her hands over it. After a moment, she speaks again. 

“You’re grieving. It’s natural you’d come down here, but Nux wouldn’t want you to put yourself in danger because of him.” She looks at Capable and her expression is hard. “He wouldn’t want you down in a place like this.” 

“Why? It’s where he lived, I’m not special.” She can feel the muscles in her cheeks growing tight, she knows if she keeps on going she’ll start to cry. 

“Nux lived a hard life, all war boys do and most of them aren’t going to… treat you the way Nux did. At least not at first. And now that Joe isn’t around as a deterrent-” 

“You mean now that they won’t get in trouble for touching his property.” It sounds harsher than Capable intends it to be and she has to turn her eyes away from Furiosa afterward. Furiosa falls silent again before walking over to her, putting her hand on her shoulder. 

“You’re no one’s property now. But don’t make that war boy’s sacrifice go to waste by putting yourself in danger. If you want to come down again, just say something.” 

Furiosa walks off toward the large exist the war pups had run off through, glancing back at Capable. “Come on.” 

Her feet move quickly, catching up to Furiosa and following her through the room that once housed the living donors, blood bags as Nux called them, cages still hanging from the tall ceilings. She’s not sure, but she thinks Furiosa is taking her this way so that she can see more of where the war boys live without having to sneak around on her own. She takes in the sights and sounds of the tunnels, watching the occasional war pup skitter out of their way. It's a little disappointing, ultimately. It feels like Nux, but at the same time it doesn't. The smells are the same, and it's not hard to imagine him growing up here but the Nux Capable remembers was brighter, somehow. By the time she'd found him, he smelled of salt and sun just like she did. His skin was pink and warm. The Nux that had lived down here, just under her feet, was someone she'd never known at all. 

It's a little while before Capable tries to speak again. 

“Furiosa… you lost people too. Your sisters…”

“We all have. That’s how it is out here.” It’s a predictable answer, but Capable is sure now more than ever it’s not that simple. 

“Yes but, sometimes I think we take how strong you are for granted. We’ve never asked you if you’re doing alright after everything.” 

Furiosa pauses and looked back at Capable before letting a small smile cross her lips. She doesn’t say anything more, just continues walking with Capable until they reach the mouth of the tower. The light from the sun on the sands is blinding and it makes both their eyes water. This light is hot and warm, the kind she’s always known, not like the cool, eerie blue of the war boy tunnels. 

“It gets easier, with time.” Furiosa says after a few moments. It’s hard to tell if she’s talking about her own loss, or comforting Capable, but either way Capable hopes it’s the truth. 

“Furiosa!” An older war boy comes scrambling up the scaffolding surrounding the mouth of the tower with a pair of binoculars in hand, “There’s a car coming toward us, headed this way offroad from the canyon.” 

“The canyon?” Furiosa’s lips turn down as she takes the binoculars from him, peering through them at the small car cutting through the red sand. “Send a small party out. If it’s friendly, escort them and I’ll meet them down below.” 

“And if it’s not?”

“They know what to do.” She hands the binoculars back and looks at Capable as the old war boy jumps back down the scaffolding, yelling for a raiding party to form. 

“We don’t know who they are?” Capable’s voice is uneasy. 

“Not expecting anyone.”


	4. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oooh you've been waiting for it and here it is! Sort of. Did I mention this is a slow-burn fic? Seriously though, thank you all for your wonderful comments and kudos. It keeps me motivated (that and watching the movie over and over...). Things will start picking up soon, but I hope you're enjoying this in the meantime!

The war party is a little overzealous going out, blasting fire and making a show of their first time out since Furiosa and the wives returned. They’ve been copped up and with their release the whole Citadel seems to be buzzing with energy. It’s not so different than when Joe was around, and it makes Capable realize how much, and how little, has actually changed. She’s no longer in the vault, she can breathe the fresh air, dust and clay and guzzoline. Joe claimed he was sparing them from the harsh world outside, but she’d rather this than a life as a prisoner. 

A thought’s creeping into her head now: If she’d known what fate would await Angharad, Nux, the many mothers... would she still choose this? Angharad’s voice is angry in her head, chastising her for these thoughts. Angharad would still have chosen it, a thousand times over. They were her words, her whispered, bedtime stories, her dreams.

“What do you think of your dream now, Angharad? Can you recognize it at all?”

Max is convinced that he’s going to have to fight his way into the Citadel just to return the poor, broken war boy in the seat next to him as he watches the flaming cars speed toward him. A flash of something shoots through his head, other rigs coming toward him, trampling the girl. Max shakes his head to clear the image away. 

There are still rigs, but no girl this time. Just him and a half-dead war boy bleeding on his new car. Everyone’s always ruining his car. 

The war party, or whatever they are now, rumbles up to him and begin to circle. They’re yelling for him to identify himself and he’s not sure how he’s going to do that over their screaming but he rolls down the driver’s window and half climbs out anyway. He raises his hands up, fingers twitching, and clears his throat. 

“Need to see Furiosa,” is all he says. They won’t know his name anyway. 

One of the war boys, a lancer, jabs another and whispers something. The words travel down a chain of ears before one of the drivers yells “ESCORT.” 

The cars break from the circle they’ve formed around him and start back toward the Citadel. One or two stay behind to flank him. He guesses he doesn’t need to ask what they said, message is pretty clear. He’s not going to have to fight his way in after all. 

Max lets out a grunt of relief as his engine roars to life and he joins the party heading for the citadel, flooring the pedal. Before he knows it he’s rumbling back into the mouth of the three towers, an all too familiar sight. He can see Joe’s emblem already being chipped out of the side of the main tower and where there were three large holes in the mountain to release the water, the pipes have now been extended all the way down the side. At the bottom is a fairly wide, shallow pool filled with water, free for the taking. He’s only been gone a week, but the place has changed a lot. 

The escort party pulls up in front of him and the war boys jump out, scrambling to his car and peeking inside. 

“We’ve got a war boy!” 

“War boy on empty!” They tug the door open and pull the still unconscious Nux from the passenger seat. Max jumps out, but before he’s touched the ground they’re hauling Nux off into the opening of the tower. The sun’s bright and he can’t see what’s inside. He figures they know better what to do with him anyway. 

“Mm. Water.” He looks around and spots the shallow pool, leaving his car and making his way back to it. He kneels down, scooping it up into his hands and drinking it greedily. Once his belly is full of it, he splashes it on his face and hair, washing away the dust and grime. 

Max glances beside him as a thin, tanned little boy runs up and fills a dented bucket with water. Before, in Joe’s time, he might have been trampled to death trying to do this. But not anymore. 

Furiosa’s done good, so far. 

He rises from his knees, standing and turning around to look back at the tower again. She’s coming down toward him with the redhead in tow, which he thinks is all the more convenient. Max walks back to meet them, wiping his mouth and gratefully entering into the shade. 

“Max.” Red is the first to speak, looking pleased enough to see him. “You’re back.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, but, something came up.” 

“Something?” Furiosa asks, and he thinks she’s probably paranoid that he’s seen something bad coming her way. Luck’s still on their side, though, for now. 

“Nothin’ bad.” He assures her quickly. “I went to the canyon pass to find a car to salvage. Found one, but something else too. That war boy of hers.” He gestures to Capable. 

“What.” Capable eyes have gone wide and watery and she turns as white as the linen sheets she’s wearing.

“You brought back his body?” Furiosa asks, concerned for Capable. If Nux is in there, that’s not anything she needs to see. After that crash it won’t be a pretty sight. 

“Mm. Kid was still breathing when I found him. Some of your war boys too him off into the tower. He’s messed up pretty bad, lotta burns.” 

The words are spinning around in Capable’s head wildly. “He’s alive?” 

“Mm. For now.” Max nods. 

“I’m going.” and Furiosa can’t catch her before she’s sprinting off in the direction Max had pointed to, back to where the organic mechanic did his work. But there isn’t anyone there. The only people with medical knowledge now are the many mothers, and probably Max.

“We don’t have an organic mechanic anymore.” 

“Not sure he needs one.” Max says, walking into the tower with her. Furiosa has a war boy go to find the many mothers anyway, they’ll need rub from the garden and bandages for the burns. 

“What kind of shape is he in?”

“Broken bones, maybe. Fractures. Lotta burns and some bad cuts. Won’t know everything until he wakes up.” 

“... Thank you for bringing him back.” It’s noisy as they approach the organic mechanic’s room, she can hear warboys chattering and moving about quickly. 

“Don’t thank me yet. Gonna hurt her a lot more if I brought him back just to die again.” He says gruffly, walking into the dark room.

“Nux.” 

One of the Many Mothers is already here, called down by Capable. She’s hovering over him and glances back at the redhead. 

“Come here, dear, and help me clean up the blood so we can figure out what needs to be fixed.” 

There’s a moment where she’s afraid to get too close, to see him knowing he might just leave her again. It doesn’t feel real. She’s dreamed this scenario too many times now. 

“Well what are ya waiting for child, come help me!” 

Capable shakes off the shock that’s creeping through her and rushes over to help the mother, staring down at Nux. His lip is split and there’s a burn stretching over his shoulder and crawling up his neck. Larry and Barry are gone, but Capable knows that’s just from the surface. They’re still underneath. 

He’s being hooked up to a ventilator, but his breathing still sounds labored to her. Could the crash have aggravated the bits of Larry and Barry that are inside, against his throat? Capable grips the table, a wave of helplessness washing over her. She hates this feeling. She doesn’t know what to do or how to help. All their books, all those lessons and she’s still useless. What good is she to him or to anyone? 

“Child.” All of a sudden there’s a hand on her shoulder, and she’s coming back into the real world, being handed something damp. “Clean the blood.” Capable nods slowly and reaches out to press the cloth to his skin, trembling. He’s real - he’s real, he’s real and he’s alive. His skin is under her fingertips and she can feel him. Once she knows this, it’s easy for her to snap into that part of herself that just goes. She smothers the shock and fear and starts to work. The cloth cleans away the mix of grease, dirt and blood that’s caked onto his pale skin and slowly begins to reveal the boy below. 

When Max and Furiosa arrive he’s the color of flesh again, rather than dirt and dried blood, and they help the mother brace a fractured leg and a broken wrist with metal and leather. Now that she’s gotten him mostly clean, the angry burns and gashes make themselves known. There are quite a few that need to be re-opened, disinfected and stitched. Furiosa does this and Capable spreads ointment on his burns, including the rather large one spread across his shoulder and down his back. Some have begun to blister, so she cleans them the best she can, doing her best to ignore the pained groan from the war boy under her hands. 

“Shhh, Nux, shhh,” She calls to him softly and he quiet down again. 

It’s cold and dark out by the time they finish, and Capable leaves his side only for a moment to go and fetch the embroidered blanket the many mothers gave her, pale with vivid red embroidery. To match her hair, they said. She drapes it gently over him and finally lets her fingers brush over the arch of his brow and across his forehead. 

“Capable, you should go back to the vault. We’ve done what we can for him.” 

“No.” She turns around to face Furiosa and Max. “I’m staying with him.” 

It’s clear in her voice she’s not going to be convinced. Furiosa glances at Max but he waves her along and she leaves with the mother. Once they’re gone, Max speaks. 

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Red.” 

She won’t. But won’t lose him either, she swears to herself. Not now after he’s come back to her. To her surprise, Max moves to sit next to Nux, hooking himself up to a needle and inserting one end into his arm before inserting the other into Nux’s. 

“Max…” 

He’s not happy about being a perpetual blood bag for this kid, but it is what it is now. He grunts as he leans back in the chair, “Universal donor.” He says, before closing his eyes. 

Capable watches him before sitting down next to him, leaning on the wall near the table and staring down at Nux. “Thank you.” 

“Hm?” Max huffs, but doesn’t looked at her. 

“You brought him back.” Her fingers are against his skin again, touching his cheek and his temple, wondering if he can feel this, or anything, in his sleep. She quietly hopes that he does, and that it will keep him with her. 

“Mm… Not much else to do once I found him.” 

“Do you think he can make it? At all?” Her voice is softer, more timid than usual. Max opens his eyes. 

“Best chance he’s got is where he is. Keep talking to him.” 

“Does that help?” She looks up at him, curious and skeptical all at once. 

He raises a brow, closing his eyes again and leaning back in his chair to sleep, “Doesn’t hurt.” 

Capable folds her arms and leaned on the table, staring at the war boy quietly as Max’s breathing starts to even out and fall into a rhythm. 

“Stupid war boy… following me home.” she takes his hand, squeezing it, “I thought you were going to Valhalla.” 

She talks to him through the night. She tells him how Max and Furiosa brought them home to the Citadel, about the cheering crowds and the war pups who lifted them up and the milk mothers giving water to the people. It grows later and she whispers to him about how she would look for him in the swarms of people, her dreams of him and Angharad and finally about her encounter with the war pups earlier that day. 

“You probably know them. They were very sweet… they reminded me of you. Brave, trying to prove something to the world, but curious and gentle too. If you wake up, we can go and talk to them together.” 

Her eyes are growing tired now and she sighs, leaning back against the wall and letting them close. Her hand is on his chest, she can feel the beat of his heart and the steadiness of his breath this way. 

“I don’t know if there is a Valhalla, but you’re awaited here, Nux.” 

She drifts off, her head lulling to rest against the wall as she joins Max in sleep.


End file.
